


Acquavite, Acquaspecchio

by Resy_Lesy



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Genderqueer Five Hargreeves, Genderqueer Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resy_Lesy/pseuds/Resy_Lesy
Summary: Five has a lot of things to deal with. The opinions of strangers aren't one of them.





	Acquavite, Acquaspecchio

**Author's Note:**

> Genderqueer Five nonsense, inspired by [ this](https://thesevenumbrellas.tumblr.com/post/184189401923/have-you-seen-nonbinary-five-i-personally) Tumblr post. I interpreted it a bit differently than stated, but I hope I did it justice.

It’s days like these when Five hates living in society. When he hates having to conform, to work with, to allow people to look at him and judge him. When he’s supposed to _care_. Five scowls into the fountain, shifting on the stone. The rough granite oddly comforts him; reminds him of the nights under the open sky, with only Dolores and the stars for company. He splays a hand on the damp rock, nails glistening for the first time in any of his bodies.

For once, they’re pretty and trimmed and glossy instead of cracked raw and coated in blood and dust. He supinates his hand, pushing the sleeve up and staring at the long, long scar where he’d removed the tracker. Five would have to ask Grace to run a scan to check for any others. He allows the sleeve to fall back into place.

Five stands and sighs, brushing off the back of his skirt. A strange choice, certainly, but Five has spent far too long alone and afraid to give a damn about what Allison’s rich friends think. Five remembers the boutique, and how he hadn’t cared then either, even with the whispers and the glances and the unsubtle threats from Diego to the murmuring seamstresses. Klaus, too, refused to care, instead picking out a floor length purple halter gown and enough golden jewelry to make Gilgamesh jealous. Five is pretty sure Klaus ended up stealing half of it.

Allison is tailor-made to make others jealous, though. She spins around the hall, through the tables and past the couples in her burgundy dress, diamonds glimmering just enough to differentiate from her premiere outfit that no one in the tabloids dares to complain. Never about _her_ , anyway.

But then again, who is Five to care about people? Who is Five to sacrifice himself?

Herself, really.

Five looks down at her arms, closing her eyes. The boutique flashes in her mind.

 

Vanya stands there in her crisp white suit, unnaturally white eyes roiling with rage when someone tries to force her into a dress. Or when another hands Five a little sailor suit, saying it’d make her into ‘such a _handsome_ young man!’

Klaus interrupts, the gown he’d tried on floating in midair as he prances around the store in his regular clothes. A clerk faints, and Five smirks. Good ole Ben.

“Here,” Klaus says, pressing a bunch of fabric into Five’s arms. “You’ve been turning down suits and uniforms all day and I know none of us can _really_ emulate Mom’s style but I think this’ll work.”

“This is a skirt,” Five replies flatly, tossing the yellow blouse(?) over his arm and hefting the black velvet into the air. It’s pleated, and Five remembers why the Scots wore kilts.

To hide the knives.

Five smiles at Klaus and blinks into a changing room. Another clerk faints.

When Five comes out, he doesn’t feel much like himself any more. Not much of a boy, and not much of a neither, either, like Klaus had explained the first time Five had ranted about stupid modern expectations. No, for once, she feels like _herself_.

Diego, the only one who refuses to dress up out of spite, gives a slow clap as Five turns on a little dais that one of the remaining clerks has set up. “Yellow’s a good color on you. Never would’ve expected it.”

“Makes him look less sickly,” Luther jokes, and Five pauses to glare. Klaus elbows Luther in the gut.

Luther blinks. “Sorry. Uh, she, right?”

Five turns once more, examining the black stockings and low-heeled shoes that Klaus had thrown in after her as she changed. They’re comfortable, and more importantly, sturdy. Thick cotton and harder leather, respectively. Five trails hi - _her_ hands over the skirt, the velvet causing a small shiver to run through her. _Soft_ is still so strange. A chunky belt loops between the skirt and where he - _she’s_ tucked the blouse in, and something finally clicks.

Five raises her gaze, collarbone dreadfully exposed due to the peasant blouse being styled with off-the-shoulder sleeves. But despite everything, it still feels nice. It still feels like _her_.

“Yes, I believe that will be acceptable for tonight.”

Klaus beams at her, and Five remembers that sometimes, she has three sisters instead of two. That sometimes, Luther, Diego, and Ben have _four_ sisters instead of two.

Five turns to the clerk and gives him a sharp nod. “I’ll take it.”

 

They’re in Vanya’s apartment before the dinner to do makeup. Five hates it. She survived so long without having to look _pretty_ that the idea of forcing her to conform has her squirming away from Allison’s palette with as much grace as a fish out of water.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Aww, is little Number Five finally going through teenage rebellion?” Klaus mocks from where she’s doing her eyeliner. She crosses her legs, purple stretching across her thighs. As usual, Klaus goes without shoes. She’d even turned down the golden Grecian sandals that a clerk had offered.

Vanya rolls her eyes, which are now back to normal due to the lack of sensory overload from her family’s arguing. Her violin sits in its case across her lap, black lacquer standing stark against her white suit. Diego and Luther mill about the kitchen, pretending not to notice the ensuing fight between the sisters.

“But you’d look so good!” Allison tries, a gentle persuasion. Five frowns at her. “Just something to make your eyes pop -”

“I _said_ no.”

Klaus interferes again. “She’s trying to help you pass, pipsqueak. While _I_ might not care about if people comment on my appearance, we don’t want you getting harassed.”

Vanya shoots Five a weak smile. “Or killing anyone.”

Five folds her arms. “I am quite capable of ignoring people. I do it to Klaus all the time.”

Luther audibly snorts from the kitchen, and both women shoot him glares.

Diego pushes himself off of the counter, having been bullied into navy dress pants and a turtleneck by Allison under threat of dismemberment and defenestration. Five has hidden Diego’s knives in her skirt, a welcome agreement between them both. He sits down behind Five on the couch, and Allison scooches back to give them both more room. Five tilts her head back as Diego cards his scarred hands through her hair, a frown flickering over her face.

“What are you doing?”

“Your hair,” he replies, catching the bottle and comb Klaus chucks at his head with ease. Five wrinkles her nose at the heavily processed scent of strawberries. “Did Patch’s before her graduation ceremony to full detective. If we do _this_ ,” Diego pauses to flip Five’s hair over her head, holding it in place with the comb. Allison holds up a helpful mirror. Five stares at her reflection and the mimicked undercut Diego has put her hair in. “You’ll look more feminine, and no makeup is needed.”

Five cocks her head and lets her dark hair flop over her eyes. “. . . Acceptable,” she says slowly, after mulling it over.

“It also fits with the style of blouse,” Klaus tosses in, swiveling in her chair and grinning at Five. “You’ll look fantastic.”

 

Five looks back into the fountain. She runs a hand through her hair. The only reason her nails are covered in clear gloss is because Klaus thought it’d be nice for all four sisters to have something tying them together beside their numbers. Apparently Ben had groaned at being skipped over, because Klaus had elbowed nothing but the air.

Five chews on the inside of her cheek before tossing her head back and staring at the sky. In every timeline, the stars remain the same. Who is she to change when nothing else does?

All Five has to do is be herself.

. . . And not kill anyone.

Bit of a hard choice, really, but one she can manage.

Five blinks back in to the main room, appearing silently beside a table boasting a chocolate fountain with all the trimmings. Diego’s still the only one at the Hargreeves table, keeping a watchful eye on Vanya, who stands at the top of the stage, violin in hand and her song winding its way through room. Diego smiles, full of pride, and so does Five. Five mills about the table for a bit, grabbing a plateful of peanut butter fudge and marshmallows. Allison trades partners between Patrick and Luther, but Klaus is the one who dances with no one in particular, switching out ghosts and people like she doesn’t know the difference. Five assumes she doesn’t.

A blink later and Five is sitting next to Diego, popping a marshmallow into her mouth.

“Get me anything?”

Five sets one of Diego’s knives on the table.

Diego hides a smile behind the roll of his eyes, but pockets his knife anyway. “How’s the party been treating you?” he asks, after a small pause that involves stealing one of Five’s peanut butter fudge squares.

She shoots him a betrayed look before popping another in her mouth. “Decently. Hung out by the fountain on the terrace, ignored annoying people who tried to talk to me, ate food that probably wasn’t poisoned.” Five shrugs and leans back in her chair. “I’m not complaining.”

Diego’s gaze flickers down to her skirt, and Five meets his gaze with a fiery one of her own. “I can take care of myself,” she hisses, weighing the pros and cons of pulling one of Diego’s own knives on him.

He leans back too, spinning the offending bit of cutlery in his fingers. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just wondering how you’ll react to other people not being as accepting as us.”

Five rolls her eyes and chomps down on another combination of fudge and mallow. “Oh, please,” she mocks once she swallows. “You shitstains barely got your heads out of your asses in time to work together to stop the goddamn apocalypse. I can deal with a few people who rank _way_ lower on the asshole scale than y’all.”

Diego glares at her, and Five smiles innocently back, because what else is a thirteen year old girl supposed to do when annoying her ‘older’ brother? Eventually Diego looks back to the room at large, not even bothering to speak up when Five orders herself a whiskey on the rocks.

Five sighs in bliss once her drink arrives, downing half the liquor in seconds. For once she doesn’t feel like her usual vodka or margaritas, but she _does_ entertain the thought of breaking into Klaus’ stash of WKD once they all return to the mansion.

She runs her finger across the rim of the glass as Vanya’s song winds to a close, flicking her eyes up to meet her sister’s. They share a tired smile as Vanya weaves her way across the room, plopping into a chair across from Five and Diego. “Hey,” she greets, soft and shy.

Diego jerks his head up and turns away, now watching Klaus. Vanya winces, and Five rolls her eyes and downs another gulp of her whiskey. “Hey,” she replies, sending Vanya a more encouraging smile as she tucks her violin back in its case. “You were great up there.”

Vanya’s lips twitch up, and she reaches across the table to grab a bread roll, pushing the case under the table at the same time. “Thanks, Five,” she says, and the trio fall into an easy, if not awkward, silence.

That is, until the rest of their group arrive. Allison and Luther slide into their seats, and Five mentally notes the structural integrity of the chairs. Klaus spins around their seats for a moment, giving each of her siblings a quick hug before plopping into her own chair with a wide, tipsy grin. “God, the wine here is _fantastic_ ,” she says, sprawling in her seat. She perks up for a second. “Ben says ‘hi’.”

“So is the sight of the Umbrella Academy back together again!” comes an eerily chipper voice that sets Five’s teeth on edge. Allison immediately puts her head in her hands.

“Hello, Cece,” Allison grumbles, already-strained voice cracking. She offers the interviewer a tight smile. “Can we help you?”

“I thought I could speak to you and your siblings for a moment,” the woman simpers, and the man next to her sends the group a nasty smile.

“Indeed.” His eyes flash across their group, lingering on Klaus and Vanya. “You all have some _interesting_ wardrobe choices tonight.~”

Diego elbows Five in the gut. “Told ya,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Apparently a turtleneck isn’t enough to get on this guy’s shit-list.

Five rolls her eyes. She wants to ask if they’ll be paying for wasting their time, but chooses instead to tuck in to one of the fruit platters after another impatient nudge from Diego. Healthy eating, her ass. Five stabs a strawberry in irritation, wondering how _he’d_ like the taste of roadkill. After the fourth or fifth squirrel, everything starts to taste the same, after all.

Cece and her friend, who Allison gives a polite nod to and calls ‘Ed’, sit down at their table. Klaus had requested two extra seats -either for Patrick and Claire or Ben and Dave, Five isn’t quite sure-, and her face darkens as the reporters(?) settle themselves into the two reserved seats between Vanya and Klaus. This places Klaus directly on Five’s left, and she resists groaning by the skin of her teeth.

“Sooo,” Cece starts with a low drawl, staring about the table. Luther in his plus-sized but well-fitted suit. Diego, sat between a darling little girl and a monkey man, unsubtly clutching a knife. Allison, with Luther on her left and Vanya on her right, one seat and too far away to whisper a Rumor. Klaus, on Ed’s right and grinning like loon waiting for the dynamite to explode in everyone’s faces.

 _Well_ , Five muses to herself, spearing a grape.  _If any family has a chance to implode tonight, the highest percentage definitely goes to us_.

“Let’s start with you,” Cece says, rounding on Vanya, who, to her credit, does a startlingly good impression of a deer in headlights. Cece flicks her eyes up and down Vanya’s suit, and cocks her head. A notepad appears in her hands, pen poised and ready. “White is a traditional gown color used at weddings. What possessed you to to wear a white suit, especially since this event is simply a _formal_ gathering?”

The word choice doesn’t escape Five, and she leans forward in interest.

Allison sits bolt upright, her mouth open and ready to defend with words hoarser than she can bear, but Vanya places a hand on her arm. “No, it’s okay,” she comforts, and looks back over to Cece. “I just. . . wanted to. Nothing special about it.” Vanya’s gaze drops to the tablecloth, and a bittersweet smile tugs at her lips. “It’s just nice to feel like _me_.”

“Yup,” Klaus chimes in, popping the ‘p’. Klaus leans back, tilting the chair on its hind legs and grinning at the reporters without a care in the world. “Vanya’s written about me loads. Nothin’ wrong with being a guy in a dress or a girl in a suit or anything in between.”

“Switched back already?” Five asks, popping a slice of kiwi in her mouth. Klaus nods and reaches behind him, snagging a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray. He holds it out to Five, who rolls her eyes but clinks her glass against his anyways. “Cool.”

Ed splutters like something shocking just happened. Five raises her perfect brows and takes a sip from her whiskey, blithely wondering why people react the way they do. Five isn’t sure if it’s because of how cold she sounds in general, or because her voice has already started to deepen. She hopes it’s the former, but is comforted in knowing that even if it’s the latter, that she doesn’t have the weirdest voice among the Hargreeves. That title belongs firmly to Allison.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Ed asks, trying to recover from his shock.

“Aren’t you a little old to be interrogating a child?” Five crosses a leg atop the other, skirt chiming, and gazes over the rim of her glass, utterly unconcerned. Ed blanches, before bolstering himself and staring her down with a gaze that Five supposes is meant to be intimidating.

“Which Hargreeves are you?” he asks, flicking his eyes up and down Five’s body. “I didn’t realize any of them had any daughters other than Allison, but hers is only a toddler. . .”

“I’m Five,” Five says.

“You’re definitely older tha -” Cece begins, before her eyes widen in an emotion that Five can’t quite name. Maybe it’s horror, maybe it’s shock - either way, Five loves the reactions she gets from people. “Wait. _Five_ Hargreeves? The Boy? You’ve been missing for decades!”

“Time travel is a helluva drug.”

The three Hargreeves boys snort in unison, and Five sends Cece a bloodless smile.

“I travelled to the future, and the day of our father’s death was how I found my family again,” Five explains, going with their previously-agreed upon cover story. “Due to my travels, I never put much stock into. . .” Five falters for a moment, glancing down at her outfit.

For a horrifying second, everything wavers, and Cece’s voice lingers in Five’s head. The skirt feels wrong. She’s too exposed in this blouse. The stockings are too high compared to her usual socks and where are his shoes and _everything is wrong_. He’s too small and his muscles aren’t as developed as they were in the body he spent so much time in. The fabric is too soft and since when does Five live in _softness_ instead of grime and blood? Since when is Five, _the Boy_ , _male_ \- Five swallows and grimaces, flicking his -her(?)- gaze up to Cece and Ed.

“Into being anything other than myself.”

“You mean being an asshole, sis,” Klaus teases, and Five nearly starts as Diego touches her arm under the table. It’s only her training that keeps her from flinching.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he whispers. “You can change your hero name if you need to. Ben and I used to argue over who should be ‘Kraken’ all the time after you disappeared.”

Five huffs and settles down in her seat. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly, letting the memories drain out of her in the way Dolores taught her to. Dimly, she hears Luther babble something about defense and honor, and the tightness in her chest unravels. After a few moments, Five opens her eyes, and Klaus meets her gaze.

‘You okay?’ he mouths, and Five nods. She grabs her whiskey and finishes off the glass, forcing her muscles not to shake with the strain of the mortal ordeal of being cornered and _examined_. Five refocuses on the conversation, reentering it by thunking her glass down on the table. She runs a finger around the edge of the empty cup, settling into who she is.

A girl. For right now, at least. And that’s okay.

“Are you sure those thoughts are your own?” Cece asks, almost as an afterthought, as if it’s an inconspicuous question. As if she wasn’t looking right at Klaus when she asked. Five sets her jaw. She places her elbows on the table and interlocks her fingers, peering over her hands to stare directly in Cece’s eyes. A deadly smile hides behind her fists.

Five has been tortured and beaten and turned into a killer. She’s lost herself thousands of times over and only just found her family again. She’s been destroyed in every way possible and yet, here she sits, as reformed as she can be. And tomorrow, she might even be better. And tomorrow, she might be a he, might be a they, too, but Five is never anything but who Five chooses to be. Murderer, loner. Hero, survivor. The Boy, the Girl - but always little Number Five.

“Yes.”


End file.
